He Fell
by PastaMan
Summary: A mysterious killer roams across Johto, bent on revenge against the Pokemon League Champion, Crys. Rated for blood, violence, and gore.


**HE FELL**

**AN: This is a Pokemon based horror story that takes place two years after the HeartGold/SoulSilver game storyline. The main characters are based off the Hero and the Rival, which I have given the names Pasta and Crys. **

**Discalimer: All things Pokemon in this story belong to Nintendo. Not me. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

It was late, very late. This had been a particularly long night for Falkner, many young trainers had passed through to test their strength against him. The sun had set hours ago, and he was just about to leave for the night to get some rest for tomorrow. "Hey guys, I'll close up for the night," Falkner said to the trainers that accompanied him in testing young challengers, "you two go on home and rest up for tomorrow."

As the two exhausted trainers left for home, the leader began wiping the dirt and grime off the floors. He began shutting off the lights when he heard the familiar whirr of the challenger's platform being raised. Falkner sighed, "Sorry, the gym is closed for the night. Come back tomorrow, okay?"

"Come now, my old friend, don't you have time for one final battle?" A weak voice called from the darkness.

The Violet City gym leader knew that voice well. "Pasta? Is that you? Goodness, I haven't heard from you since..."

Pasta's composure slightly fell. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up again." Falkner tried to reassure his friend, "So, you've come to battle, eh? I'm glad to see your feeling well enough to fight again." He offered Pasta a friendly grin in hopes to cheer him back up.

A dark grin spread across Pasta's face in response as he jerked his body upright, standing tall. "Yes," he said with a rasp to his voice, as if it had not been used in a long time, "Yes, Falkner. I'm ready to reclaim my place as the best Pokemon trainer ever."

Pasta stepped into the light, confronting the leader. His face was only visible from the tip of his nose down, for the shadows cast by this hat darkened the rest of it from view. His eyes, however, seemed to glow under the darkness.

Falkner's smile faded as he began to realize that something was awfully wrong with Pasta. The young trainer was standing up tall and confident, but his one arm hung limply at his side, and his legs seemed to rattle every now and then, as if in pain. His whole body convulsed in waves of agony. It was as if his own body was trying to resist itself. An impossibly large grin stretched across his face, even though Falkner could clearly see the torment in his young friend's eyes. "P-Pasta, are you sure that you're fit to battle?"

"One...final...battle...please..." Pasta muttered, "It would make me feel... so much better...!"

The gym leader hesitated, "I'm not sure-"

Before he could finish, Pasta's right arm twitched to life and yanked a Pokeball from his bag, tossing it out onto the battle field. "BURN THEM ALL."

The last thing Falkner saw before his whole world burned to ashes was his Pidgey breaking free of its ball to step between him and the flames.

* * *

November 13, 9:32 AM.

Violet City's gym leader, Falkner, was found dead in his gym early this morning. The cause of his death is unknown, as his body was simply found lying on the floor, lifeless. No open wounds, no broken bones, no bruises, nothing. However, the body was in an odd position for one who was supposedly dead. He was curled in a ball, eyes widened in fear, with his hands grasping his head. At first glance, one would think he was still alive.

Oddly enough, after some investigation, Falkner was discovered to be paralyzed, as if by a Pokemon attack. Surely enough, after being sprayed down with a parlyz heal or two, his body unfurled and went limp. While this explained his odd position, it did not explain his sudden demise. Did a Pokemon do this? Perhaps a trainer bent on revenge? Who knows.

Upon further investigation, the gym leader's Pokemon, his trusty Pidgey and Pidgeotto, were found dead as well. His Pidgey was severely burned; its feathers were singed black and it was paralyzed in a horrible pose as well. His Pidgeotto was in much worse shape, for its body was limp and slathered in blood. Its wing and its head had been gruesomely torn off and deep cuts covered its body.

The next piece of evidence uncovered was perhaps the most unsettling. Painted onto the wall with what seemed to be the poor Pidgeotto's blood, was a message.

"1/8"

* * *

I couldn't believe what I was hearing and seeing. Violet City gym being closed down, Falkner dead. No less than two years ago I had defeated him in battle, obtained my first gym badge. He was one of my best tutors, helping me raise my Golbat to its peak strength.

I would have to leave my spot up here in the Pokemon League to pay my respects to Falkner and his Pokemon. After all, the other gym leaders of Johto and even the Elite Four were traveling all the way to Violet City, what excuse should the Champion have?

Before I left, I noticed the letter on my desk. Was that there before? It must have been delivered while I was distracted by the horrible newscast. A bit hesitantly, I picked up the envelope and tore it open. I whispered the note aloud to myself, a little a habit of mine:

"Crys, how do you do? Just checking up on you again, Champ! You've been the undefeated champion for what, about 2 years now? Congrats! Pasta is doing just fine, but he still hasn't cracked a single smile. Although, he did help me care for a newly hatched Pokemon yesterday, a little Growlithe! We even had a conversation! It was just small talk, but much better than dead silence. He's taken quite a liking to that Growlithe. I think having a Pokemon to look after will be good for him, I hope Prof. Elm allows him to keep it.

Well, that's all for now! Have a nice day, Crys! Your friend, Lyra."

Well, at least I was getting some good news today. I couldn't help but crack a little grin. If I remember correctly, Pasta's first Pokemon was a fire type.

Suddenly, everything grew dark, and I couldn't breathe. The world above me was warped as I struggled for air under the boiling water. The hot water started to sting my eyes, but I couldn't close them for fear of losing sight of the light above me, the light that promised the air I so desperately craved. My lungs began to ache as I thrashed about. I inhaled deeply, but the deep breath was cut off as my chest stung horribly from the liquids entering my respiratory system. It felt like a swarm of Beedrills were drilling out of my chest, tearing it apart from the inside out. Kicking and howling in agony and desperation, I tried to swim to the light that was slowly fading away, but something large held me down. My heart pounded as I realized with overwhelming fear that I was drowning. I was going to die.

I shrieked and landed hard on my back. I gasped for air, coughing and wheezing. The fall had knocked the wind out of me. My eyes shot wide open. I was in my room. I scrambled to sit upright, grasping my heaving chest. The pain in my chest was gone, a dull ache in its place. I gladly welcomed the air into my lungs, relief washing over me.

What just happened? I was just under water; I couldn't breathe. Was that all just some vision or dream? It had felt so real. It had felt...familiar.

I stood in shock, lost in my thoughts. Questions racked my brain as I tried to understand what exactly had happened. Ten minutes must have passed by until I finally snapped back into my senses. I shook my head wearily, trying to forget the whole thing. I had to clear my head, I had a funeral to attend, after all.


End file.
